


Virgin Cocktails

by mericorn



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mericorn/pseuds/mericorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose attends an exclusive party where only the rich and/or extremely well connected can get into, which includes her mother, unfortunately. She meets another girl in the same situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Virgin Cocktails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etnoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/gifts).



A lavender haired girl stood by herself against the well-lit wall in a ballroom. Music from a string quartet and piano wafted over from the other side of the room. To her left, a long buffet table piled with trays upon trays of cocktail finger foods stood. Waiters dressed in white dress shirts and black vests flitted back and forth carrying champagne and cocktails on metal platters. They stopped at the bar near the buffet table to refill from the mixologists on hand, currently shaking metal containers. To her right, the ballroom opened up where people (adults) mingled and talked to each other, usually in the form of drunken gossip. In short, it was another one of her mother’s shitty parties that she had been forced to attend.  


Rose looked down at her lemon, lime and bitters and swirled them around in the highball glass. She had tried to get a Sex on the Beach but the bartender asked to see her ID and unfortunately she hadn’t managed to get a spectacular fake one. It couldn’t just have her name “Rose Lalonde” on it and a flattering picture of her; no, it needed something more, something more spectacular, something like the name Amantine Dupin with a picture of Rose wearing a suit and smoking a cigar. Go big or go home for a selfie, as Dave would say. Alas, her mother might approve of her fake ID, with her sneaking out and going to places she shouldn’t be, and Rose certainly couldn’t condone that.  


Rose took a small sip of her drink. There was almost no one here her age, with every other adult being at least thirty years old. She looked at her mother from the corner of her eye. She was currently drinking her martini while gesturing wildly to a bald and clean-shaven man in a black tuxedo. Her form-fitting hot pink dress cut dangerously low, showing lots of her cleavage, but went down to just above her ankle so she could claim some respectability. She leaned in forward to the man and traced his lapel with her right index finger before drawing back and giggling. Typical of her mother. Rose took another sip.  


She lazily gazed at the band in front of her. As was normal for these sorts of occasions, no one paid any attention to the musicians, with them acting as a sort of background Muzak, only noticeable when they stopped playing. Rose played violin, partly because of her mother, and partly because she sincerely enjoyed it. Playing a gig for parties like this might not be so bad if her mother wasn’t in attendance.  


A girl caught her eye. She looked to be about Rose’s age and she wore a cyan blue dress overlaid with a black pattern with a bow at the front of the waist. Her skirt looked very full, so she probably had a petticoat underneath. Her shoes were simple black pumps. Her hair was black and short and she wore round red plastic frames. Rose squinted. The girl looked familiar.  


Apparently Rose’s gaze was hotter and more penetrating than she thought because the girl noticed her, smiled, and started coming over to her. In her left hand, she held a pink ombre drink with a maraschino cherry on top. The girl stopped next Rose.  


“Hi!” she said and extended her right hand. “I’m Jane Crocker.”  


Rose’s face lit up as she shook Jane’s hand. She was the heir to Crocker Corp. Sometimes Rose would see her on the news, usually by paparazzi or traditional media sunk low by the recession. She always appeared very flattering though; Rose never saw any pictures of her in sweatpants or taking out the trash or attending any inappropriate parties. “Charmed,” said Rose, with only a small smile. “My name is Rose Lalonde.”  


Jane glanced down at Rose’s dress. “I like your purple dress. It reminds me of an octopus,” she said.  


Rose subconsciously smoothed out the skirt of her dress. It was hard to convince her mother to buy the dress, despite it being precisely in the middle of the allotted budget, although her mother would probably be willing to drop ten grand on a single dress if Rose suggested it. The dress was a deep violet with undulating pieces of fabric beginning at the bottom of the bodice to the bottom of the ankle long accordion folded and draping skirt. The bodice had printed tentacles curling up from the bottom to her chest. The neckline was modest and bordered by two thick shoulder straps. Rose’s mother said she would regret wearing it in a few years; Rose didn’t care.  


“Thank you,” said Rose, her smile in place. “What brings you to this party?”  


Jane laughed. “The same reason I go to any party: as I will one day inherit a company, I need to learn how to act and present myself. Apparently,” Jane leaned in conspiratorially, “pranks are not a part of acting appropriately, hoo hoo hoo! My father can be such a stick in the mud.”  


“Anything you were planning specifically?” Rose took a sip.  


“A good prankster never reveals what she’s going to do!” Jane sighed. “It’s a bit hard though, when your father checks everything before you leave. Not even a fake can of cashews gets by him! What’s yours like?”  


“I wouldn’t know; I don’t have a father. My mother was the only one who raised me.”  


“Oh! I’m sorry. I never had a mother either. What’s it like to have one?”  


Rose glanced over her glass at her mother. “I can’t speak for everyone, but my mother can be a tad… passive aggressive. I assume it’s the same as having any parental figure.”  


Jane furrowed her eyebrows. “No, I can’t say my father ever acted like that.”  


An awkward silence descended between them. Rose went back to looking at nothing particular. Her gaze drifted from the ground to the band to Jane’s dress when she noticed that the pattern was–  


Rose squinted. “Are those… ?”  


Jane laughed. “Yes, I was hoping someone would notice! They’re mustaches!”  


“That’s… very interesting.”  


“Um, I don’t think you can talk. If I may say so, you look like Ursula’s land bound sister.”

Rose snorted into her drink. "Very well. I guess you caught me. I am actually here to curse this entire party and abduct you to my palace in the sea. My mother is simply a cover. I could be drinking all the alcohol I want, but I decided to stay sober until I caught you in my suckered grasp and ran straight back to the ocean," said Rose. 

"Now that's just silly!" Jane laughed. Jane leaned up against the wall. "You're a pretty interesting girl, Rose. What kind of school do you go to?"

"Private," Rose stated matter-of-factly. "Catholic, because that's the closest private school to my home in the middle of the woods. I have to wear a uniform, of course and they do have me take religious classes, but I never let that get in the way of my hooliganism. It's a firm belief instilled in me by my mother. Anyway, how about you. You go to a preparatory school? Private? Any terrible starchy, plaid uniforms? I can only assume Crocker Corp wants the best for their heiress."

"Actually, I'm homeschooled," Jane said sheepishly. "My father says it's dangerous for me to go unprotected and, I understand! I really do. I've had..." Jane's fingers flickered up and down; she counted. "Three assassination attempts in the past six months? My dad says he knows I'm safe if I'm at home. He gave up his office job to work from home and teach me. I don't need him as much anymore though, I can read most of the lesson plans and books on my own, and ask him at the end of the day if I don't understand."

Rose stared at her. "Do you have any friends?"

"I've made most of my friends online. It's... a little hard." Jane's eyes wandered away from Rose's. 

"Where do you normally go to find your friends?" Rose sipped her drink.

Jane studied the ground. "I honestly don't remember. I've had most of my friends for a long time. I normally talk to them via instant message. We have pretty different time zones though so it's somewhat of a miracle when we can get a salient repertoire going." 

Rose walked over in front of Jane and looked at her eye to eye. They were about the same height, with Rose just a little bit shorter. "What chat client do you use?"

Jane's corner's of her mouth lifted up slightly. "Betty Bother." She laughed wryly. "I'm a good, loyal heiress when it counts."

Rose thought moment, then walked over to a table and sat her drink down. When she came back thirty seconds later, she held a paper napkin with writing in cheap black ink neatly written on it. 

"'tentacleTherapist.' What's this?" asked Jane.

"It's my pesterchum handle. You can talk to me anytime you get lonely. While I do live on the East coast, I hope I am slightly easier to get a hold of, unless you live in Hawaii."

Jane's face erupted into a smile. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I am really highly obliged to you." 

"It's nothing," said Rose, taking another sip. She may not have anyone to talk to either, and there were worse people to give your chumhandle than the lonely Crocker Corp heiress, who may have been slightly cute. Besides, maybe Rose had been lonely too. 

Jane was searching for some way to show her gratefulness. She evidently decided on a bear hug as Rose was being squeezed by soft arms and constricted into a soft chest. Rose may have blushed while she asked Jane, "You're, uh, very welcome, but won't the, uh, people with cameras see this?" 

"I don't care." Jane released Rose from her hold. "I'm basically a blacked out from the media except when Crocker Corp wants the public to see me."

"That would explain why I haven't heard about the assassination attempts," Rose mumbled into her drink. "My mother is normally on top of all the news involving Crocker Corp."

"Where is your mother, anyway?" Jane asked."I want to see this woman that you have such strong opinions about, hoo hoo!"

Rose searched the crowd. "She's wearing a tight pink dress... oh there she is." Rose pointed.

Rose's mom was currently making out with a bald man in a tuxedo. 

"DAD!?" Jane gasped, her eyebrows rocketing up to her forehead. Her hands were now plastered over her gaping mouth, struggling to constrict sobs of laughter or peals of crying, Rose couldn't tell.

"Whoops." Rose finally finished her drink. Maybe she could convince a mixologist to give her alcohol. 


End file.
